


A little bit more than bandaids

by Banini



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, OR IS IT, hahahahahahaha, maybe idk, you will never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banini/pseuds/Banini
Summary: Ghost gets their shit wrecked and tears their family apart a bit.
Relationships: Grimm/Hornet (Hollow Knight), Hornet & Quirrel (Hollow Knight), Hornet & The Knight (Hollow Knight), Hornet & Tiso (Hollow Knight), Quirrel & Tiso (Hollow Knight), The Knight & Quirrel (Hollow Knight), The Knight & Tiso (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	1. one

" Pale thing? "

Tiso stared with wide eyes at the crumpled, black stained figure, half hidden in the foul ash of Kingdom's Edge and slumped against the wall. The child’s head lolled awkwardly, half resting on their shoulder as they leaned uncomfortably into the corner of the chamber. Ghost’s nail lay by their side, edges slick with a harsh orange liquid. They looked like a broken doll, thrown by a child in a fit.

Fuck. Fuck fuck *fuck. what had happened here? Tiso could see no corpse nearby, no fallen foe sunken into the faux snow. A few quick glances around the makeshift arena revealed nothing but puddles of orange goo and slick streaks of some inky mess. The same stuff pooling around Ghost. Was that their blood? It didn’t look normal, but blood was fucking blood. How much could such a small thing even hold before expiring?

Tiso wasn’t ready to find out at the moment, actually. That was a question he didn’t particularly wish to be answered right now.

“ Little squib? “ Tiso’s flight footfall crunched the ash under his feet as he rapidly approached the little figure, trying not to kneel down in the dark liquid. “ Hey, c’mon- “ The warrior patted the clammy cheek of Ghost with light taps, feeling some sort of anxiety bubbling up his throat. “ what’s happened to you? Who- “

Tiso trailed off as he glanced down, catching sight of the state the child had been put in. Holy shit.

Ghost’s lightly armored shirt had been torn apart, deep gashes slicing deep into their flesh and letting the dark liquid pool out. Several other wounds peppered their small frame, creating tears in the dark fabric and cuts in their even darker flesh. Tiso reached out tentatively to touch some of the leaking goo, recoiling immediately at the horrible, burning cold.

Was this their blood?  
“ Shitshitshit- “ Tiso’s first action was to yank his hood off as quickly as possible, hands shaky as he pressed it against the biggest wound to staunch the bleeding. Fuck. Was Ghost even alive? No, that was a stupid question. A bad one. Of course they were – they were a resilient little child.

They weren’t dead. They would be fine.

Two hands quickly wriggled under the broken frame, Tiso immediately becoming uncomfortably aware of how sharp and irregular some segments of Ghost’s limbs had become. Fractured bones? Did they have bones? Whatever held them together was splitting apart in some areas. They must have been thrown against the wall hard. The mere thought nauseated the man.

Tiso stood, unfortunately much too quickly – a pained mewl emanated from Ghost, still weakly slumped in his arms. The warrior grimaced at the sound, making sure not to jostle his small friend and mumbling quiet apologies as he carefully shifted them in his arms. 

God. Another good look at them brought another bout of emotion burbling uncomfortably in Tiso’s gut, a horrible rumble of anger and anxiety and strong, strong worry. He wanted to tear apart whoever – or whatever - had done this to such a small thing. The pain they must be feeling in their drifting consciousness made him wince at the thought.

“ O-Okay. Okay. You’re going to be fine. “ Tiso murmured, cradling the child in his arms as he carefully jogged back the way he came. “ Just fine. We’ll get back to Dirtmouth and fix you up, and you’ll be absolutely fine. Just fine. “ A pause eased between his shaky words, a moment taken to focus on his path back to the town.

“ Oh gods, Pale thing, please be fine. “


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.

Hornet had never been so quiet.

Quirrel could not help but observe with an inborn curiosity as her lithe fingers held a needle, gently puncturing the delicate membrane of Ghost’s skin before closing the wound with a quick movement upwards. She had been doing this for quite a little while now, as if repairing a precariously damaged toy. Though, this very clearly was something much more precious.

The aforementioned bug himself had been tasked with wrapping up the child as neatly as possible, once his sister’s intense work had been finished. For now, he took to keeping his hands on the rolls of clean bandages, fiddling nervously as he watched Ghost’s face for any sign of waking. His nerves had been shot since they had been half dragged here by Tiso, honestly, but all he could do was grit his teeth and keep his eyes above their torso.

A sudden clattering of wood against smoothed stone made the former scholar jolt straight out of his thoughts, dropping a roll of wrappings and giving his stool an unpleasant groan. Tiso had returned with a worn bucket of spring water, huffing quietly as a small puddle of the fresh liquid pooled around his feet. A soft, frantic chittering also reached Quirrel’s ears - had Tiso managed to find a lifeblood cocoon along his way? Poor little seeds, although their usefulness was undeniable.

The warrior grumbled something quietly as Hornet extended a hand towards him, not even sparing him a glance and instead keeping her eyes stuck on the vessel. She had not even flinched – her intense concentration was quite impressive, honestly.

A heavy scraping and a quiet pop drawled Quirrel back to reality, cocking his head as he glanced over to see Hornet squeezing some fresh lifeblood into the warm water. One single scuttering creature had been left, most likely to be consumed if- *once* Ghost had awoken. Hornet dropped the transparent carcass carelessly as soon as its precious contents were gone, standing up and resuming her unnaturally stiff posture.

“ Tiso. “

Tiso had not been expecting his name. He flinched a bit, nearly knocking over a nearby broom with his sudden movement.

“ Hmm? “

“ Outside. Now. “

Quirrel didn’t pay the two any mind, at the moment – Tiso would probably be reamed for a wild accusation, and he’d come up with an insultingly poor excuse. But that was unimportant. It would be resolved fair enough. He switched to the much more important task, gently dipping the fabric into the medicated water. He pulled it out carefully, letting excess drip back in before he gently plopped it on the largest wound.

Obviously not gentle enough, because Ghost *jolted*, letting out a sound the scholar could only describe as a wounded animal. He sat there for a moment, tense, feeling a horrible churn at how his little friend now shook a little. But with a quiet breath he continued his work steadily, wrapping up Ghost with an odd tenderness he hadn’t known he was capable of. It wasn’t long before the little child was properly bandaged, a pale blue tint to the wrappings from the lifeblood soaked within.

The traveler stood slowly, feeling his joints pop as he dusted himself off. His hands were wet from the soaked fabric, even as he rubbed them on his shirt rather carelessly. With a soft groan Quirrel bent down a bit, tucking the child in carefully before quickly turning and heading off to carry on with chores.

He couldn’t bear to look at the little one any longer.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're still... existing.

This week had been anything but easy.

Tensions were high among Hornet and the others, barely punctured through with sparse moments of quiet talk and barely comfortable silence. Neither she nor the others could really stand to be inside or out of the house, stuck in a constant loop of ambling about outside or remaining jitterily active indoors. Her nail had never been so polished – the edges of the needle oh so clean, pristine and perfected from the overuse of polish.

Occasionally it would be stained once more, hot orange liquid bubbling down in thick streaks as a tiktik or some other weak creature lay lifeless in the middle, eyes clouded and legs limp at its sides. It made a dull meal, her tongue heavy and resisting to any flavor that may have lingered. She simply wasn’t in the mood.

Occasionally, on the days she could bear to be home ( such as now ), she’d sit at the edge of Ghost’s resting area and polish her needle relentlessly. She’d spare the child a glance occasionally, face blank as their own remained still. She had never really seen their eyes closed, honestly – Hornet was used to peering down at wide, dilated eyes, small hands gripping her cloak and the ghost of a little smile tracing their face.

.. Those days would be back. Eventually. Ghost was a resilient little pest.

Hornet sighed quietly, her grip on her cleaning cloth tightening as she steadied herself into her spot. She’d been so stressed – so much more then normal – she’d barely paid any mind to Grimm. The troupe master had given her space she appreciated, but she couldn’t help the guilty feeling at his occasional glances from the town square. Hornet would talk to him soon. She would. Once this boiling feeling churning in her stomach settled. Gods, her cloak felt so heavy. Gravity seemed to pull it down on her worn shoulders gently, locking her in her place.

the self proclaimed daughter of Hallownest let it sink her down, her grip on her trusted weapon loosening slightly as she gave in to the heavy weight of worry. It seemed so really, holding her down with a gentle force she couldn’t even begin to combat. How strange. Almost like-

Hornet paused.

.. Almost like-

A hand. A little hand, little fingers furrowing into the fabric weakly and tugging down a little tighter, the same little hands she’d warm in her own on last minute trips through Kingdom’s Edge. The same she knocked the dull edges of her needle against during spars, bruising the soft skin but earning a wild grin in response. The same.. the same hands belonging to a creature she treasured so dearly.

“ Little Ghost? “


End file.
